


Fate and Circumstance

by fatal_drum



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Foursome, M/M, Multi, OR IS IT, Overstimulation, Sassy menu choices, Smut, So much cunnilingus, Submissive Will, That's not a cunnilingus joke, mild bondage, ménage à quatre, small suicide mention, the light from shame won't hit me for a million years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 09:25:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: "A life for a life is a fair exchange, don't you think?" Margot and Alana want another child, and they know just who to ask.





	Fate and Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to Pragnificent and Willowbilly for kindly betaing this story! Additional thanks to inter_spem_et_metum, drhanniballectermd, and Seluvia for cheerleading. Without you guys, I never would have made it through. So much love! <3

Hannibal paused with his hand on the light switch, eyes closed as he took in the faint scent of jasmine in the air.

“If you wanted to disguise your presence, Miss Verger,” he said, “perhaps you should change your perfume.”

“It's Verger-Bloom, actually. And who said I wanted to hide, Doctor Lecter?” she drawled. He followed her voice to the sitting room, where she was draped over the Italian leather sofa as if she owned it. Her lipstick was the color of dried blood, a dark matte that drew the eye as she wet her lips.

“You're not here to eliminate the threat to your wife?” He crossed to the sideboard, taking two crystal glasses and pouring them each a finger of scotch.

Margot's eyes slid shut as she tasted the scotch, rolling it around her mouth with a sigh. “You've been a good influence on Will. This is much better than his old brand.” She swallowed, her white throat bobbing delicately. “And you're partially right. This is about Alana. And about me. And about you.”

Hannibal settled in the chair across from her, taking a swallow. His mouth filled with the burn of peat and smoke.

“You should see our son. Despite his parentage, he's growing to be the sweetest little thing. He has Alana's eyes, but with that awful Verger hair that won't lay flat for love or money.” She smiled ruefully.

“Family life suits you, Margot.”

“But I worry about Morgan sometimes. Wouldn't you? Even with the dogs, he gets lonely sometimes. A boy should have company.”

“Most children enjoy it, I suppose.”

Margot drew a finger along the rim of her glass. “There's nothing more beautiful than seeing the one you love reflected in a child's face. Recognizing them in the way they smile, or how they walk. Knowing that no two people in the world will ever look at you with those same eyes. Have you ever had children, Hannibal?”

“Not in the traditional sense.” Unbidden, he felt the slide of ringlets like silk through his fingers, heard the echo of a childish laugh, like bells.

Margot's mouth tightened. “Will would have loved our child, I think.” Even with the balm of years and another child, the loss stung, but she bared the wound to his sight like a badge.

“He did love your child. Or the idea of him.”

“That's one thing you can never give him. A family. Blood.”

“Will seems happy enough without those things.”

“But for how long? Do you think you can hold his interest forever? All around you, he'll see other families growing together, and he'll remember what you took from him.”

“It was not my intention to take your child from you, Margot.”

“But you didn't care to prevent, either.”

He did not deny the accusation.

“What are you proposing, then?”

“It's simple enough. Morgan needs a sibling. We need a donor. Graham has a proven track record.”

“You know what I've promised Alana.”

“A life for a life is a fair exchange, don't you think? You can't keep the child, but visitation could be arranged for both of you. Supervised, of course.”

Hannibal tilted his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl at the bottom.

“An interesting proposition. Do you really place so much trust in me?”

“I trust Will. And I trust your obsession for him.”

“I will need to discuss it with him.”

“Of course.” She rose, and kissed his cheek. “You know where to find me.”

 

* * *

 

Will returned as Hannibal was mincing garlic for their dinner. Hannibal's mouth watered at the sight of him covered in grease and sweat from his day at the docks. In his younger years, hard labor had disgusted him. Now he enjoyed the traces of it on Will's body, in the firm muscle under his clothing and the bronze glow of his skin.

“Is that—perfume I'm smelling?” Will's nostrils twitched, and Hannibal felt a hot surge of pride.

“It is,” he replied, pretending not to notice as Will stepped closer. The scents of saltwater and engine oil sent a curl of arousal through his belly.

“Are you going to explain, or are you having too much fun being mysterious?” Will asked, his lips inches from Hannibal's ear. Hannibal could feel the heat from his body through their clothes. It was easy to imagine the picture they made together: Hannibal in his immaculate dress shirt with its starched white cuffs, Will poised to ruin it with a touch. Utterly fitting.

“We had a visitor.”

Will looked down at the cut of loin. “Well, it couldn't have been that eventful, since that's actually pork. As far as I can tell.”

“It is. I imagine you would be disappointed if I served Margot Verger to you.”

Will stiffened and went silent for a moment. “I can't help but notice the lack of an escape attempt.”

“She means us no harm. Yet.”

“What _does_ she mean us?”

“Do you ever think of having children?”

Will backed away rapidly. “What does that have to do with anything?” he demanded.

Hannibal looked down at the cutting board, eyeing his work. “It's a simple enough question.”

“I—” He heard Will's head hit the cupboard behind him as he sighed. “There's no point in thinking about it. You know what happens to things I care about.” Will paused. “You generally _are_ what happens.”

Hannibal felt a stab of something so unfamiliar it took several moments to place it: regret. He could never regret that circumstances had led them here to their surprisingly quiet life, but the road they had taken was perhaps unnecessarily fraught.

Not for the first time, he marveled at Will Graham's ability to wake parts of him he'd thought long since atrophied.

“But if you could have a child. Not one that would live here, but one that would be out in the world. Raised in a loving home, with all the resources you lacked.”

“I'm not exactly...why would someone want _my_ child?”

Hannibal turned to examine Will's face. His expression was caught somewhere between revulsion and hope, a hope so deep he doubted Will knew of its presence.

“Is it so hard to imagine? There are those lovely eyes to consider. You're healthy, with higher than average intelligence—”

Will laughed bitterly. “And by all accounts, a social failure. What if it grew up to be like me?”

“We are not solely products of heredity. My parents were quite typical.” This was not, strictly speaking, true. However, he was confident that neither of his parents had indulged quite the same dietary habits. Their violence was of a much more mundane variety.

“There's no precedent for someone like you,” Will argued.

“Nor for you. You must consider the parentage of their other child as well. By all reports, he is quite a normal boy.”

“You were going to kill Alana.”

“It does grieve me to leave a promise unfulfilled. However, I must consider the benefit of allowing her to live.”

“A child,” Will said slowly. “Which you would... _not_ kill this time. Are you fucking kidding me?”

It seemed time to lay his cards on the table.

“The call of fatherhood in you is strong, Will. It is natural for a man to want to secure his legacy. Especially one socialized to expect all the things a heterosexual marriage would provide: the comfort of a wife, home, and family.”

“Your gender has nothing to do with this,” Will argued. “Nothing would change if you were a woman.”

“It would be... a compromise. It would not be the same as raising a child yourself, but knowing he is out there in the world might bring you some comfort.”

“Are you...” Will stared. “Are you afraid I'll leave you over this?”

“Not this year. Most likely not the next, either. But eventually you _will_ regret casting your lot with mine and forgoing the pleasures of home and hearth.”

“I'm regretting it right now,” Will growled. “What do you know about what I'm going to feel in ten years?”

 _Ten years_. The thought made Hannibal's mouth go dry.

“I know _you_ ,” he said softly. “intimately, in ways no one ever has or ever will.”

Will swallowed. “That...may be true. But it's not really about what I want, is it?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“You want a child. My child.”

Hannibal was silent.

“You do,” Will said incredulously. “You—why? Why would you want that? You hate sharing me with anyone and anything.”

“There is some... appeal, to the notion of seeing your features reflected in another face. Perhaps even your personality. It would be a piece of you recreated in the world. Something that endures after we are but dust in the earth.”

Will raked his hand through his hair. “I—Jesus Christ, Hannibal. What am I supposed to say to that? Is this some kind of—midlife crisis? Is your _clock_ ticking?”

“Does it seem that way to you?”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can't do this right now.” He turned, shaking his head, and left through the front door.

Hannibal watched him leave.

 

* * *

 

Hannibal knew the moment Will returned that his consent was inevitable. That did not mean Will would go without a fight. Will was beautiful in his rage, though Hannibal had to ensure neither of them had access to anything sharp.

Neither of them needed a weapon, but it would be foolish to tempt fate.

“If this is a... _scheme_ , Hannibal,” Will said slowly, “you won't enjoy what happens afterward.”

Hannibal allowed himself a moment to savor the image of Will in his wrath, like an avenging angel of the Old Testament. Gently, he brought his hand to Will's cheek.

“I am not a good man. But I no longer enjoy the thought of your suffering.”

“If you hurt them, I'm done. Not like I was after Italy. Really, actually done. You'll never find me.” Will's gaze caught his. “You'll never find my body.”

Pride welled in Hannibal's chest, so full he felt it might spill over. It was a sharp feeling, one with edges that cut.

“And if they betray us?”

“If they know where we are, they've had every opportunity. They could have called the _policia_ , or sent snipers. They haven't. Hell, they could have had you shot and swooped in to 'save' me.” Will shook his head. “But if something happens, you'll know what to do.”

Hannibal marveled at the beautiful, deadly thing he had shaped.

 

* * *

 

Hannibal took longer to get ready than even Molly used to. Will could shower, shave, and dress in the time it took Hannibal to do his hair. He wound up trying on three different outfits and dismissing each before Hannibal swept in and chose one. It was tempting to ignore his selection, but Will had to admit he looked good in the midnight blue dress shirt. He paused to look at their reflection, at Hannibal behind him in a dove grey suit and indigo tie. The sight of them together made his chest feel tight.

“There is no reason to be nervous,” Hannibal said, catching his eyes in the mirror. Will didn't bother to respond.

They rode in silence, Hannibal driving, Will watching the countryside blur past his window.

Margot and Alana had rented a house on the beach, the kind of boxy modern home he knew set Hannibal's teeth on edge. He spotted at least two armed guards on the perimeter, and he doubted they were the only ones. The guards ignored Will and Hannibal as they approached.

Alana answered Will's knock. She'd cut her hair short, though soft, dark waves still framed her face. Her oxblood suit was tailored to show every curve.

“Will,” she said with surprising warmth in her eyes. “It's good to see you.”

“You, too,” he said. “Uh. We brought this.”

Will held out the bottle of wine Hannibal had picked out.

“It's quite untampered with,” Hannibal promised.

Alana's eyebrow twitched, but she took the bottle and led them in.

“Will!” Margot pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You're looking well.”

Part of him wondered what she had expected him to look like, but he hugged her back.

To his surprise, she repeated the treatment on Hannibal, embracing him without hesitation. Surprise flickered across Hannibal's face, but he suppressed it quickly, returning her kiss.

Dinner was quiet and, to Will's amusement, exclusively vegetarian: honey-glazed tofu over rice pilaf, with a salad of blood oranges and wild greens. Will let Hannibal and Margot carry the conversation while he savored a meal composed of dishes he could actually pronounce. They had a lot to talk about, it seemed, from the weather in Cypress to Anna Netrebko's latest performance. The meal was somehow both surreal and perfectly ordinary at once.

When they were finished, Will felt tension seep into the room. Hannibal leaned back and sipped his wine, as comfortable in this as in any situation.

“So, how does this...work?” Will asked, tugging the cuff of his sleeve.

There was no need to explain what _this_ was.

“Good question,” Margot said, smiling sweetly. “You and Alana are going to make our baby. While Hannibal and I watch.”

Will flushed. “Just watch?”

“I can touch Alana, and you, if you like. Hannibal can only touch you.”

Will felt his mouth go dry at the thought of Hannibal watching him. _Touching_ him, as he settled between Alana's legs and licked her until she clenched her thighs around his head. Whispering gentle encouragement, the way he had during Will's first kill in Cuba.

“And you're alright with this?” he asked Alana, raising an eyebrow.

“It's nothing he hasn't seen before,” she said with a cold smile.

Hannibal's lips quirked slightly at the corners.

Will ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Okay. So...when do we begin?”

“Right now, if you like.” Margot rose gracefully and settled over Will's lap, hands laced behind his neck.

“What's this?” Will asked, one arm slipping automatically around her waist to support her. Her weight was warm and reassuring in his lap.

“You're not fucking my wife for free,” she murmured, drawing a finger down the open collar of his shirt. Her low tone drew a shiver of arousal from him.

“You want me to...pay you?” he asked. She nodded and leaned close to brush her lips against his. His free hand came up to stroke her hair as she deepened the kiss, licking the taste of wine from his mouth. Her lips were as soft and cruel as he remembered, her teeth every bit as sharp as she sank them into his lip.

She took his wrist gently and slid it between her thighs. The skin felt shockingly smooth after so many months with Hannibal. The velvet of her skirt caressed his hand as he brought it up to trace the lace of her panties with a careful finger. He could feel the heat of her skin even through the fabric.

Hannibal's hand on his shoulder startled him out of his daze. His fingers squeezed once, just short of painful. Margot smirked and kissed him again.

Will stroked her through the panties, pressing two fingers against her opening, just short of penetrating. She moaned into his mouth and rocked her hips forward. He could already feel a hint of moisture against his skin.

“This isn't for me,” he said, tracing her folds through the fabric.

“I like knowing that I've given you to Alana,” she whispered against his jaw. “And that you'll only get what I want you to have.”

“What do you...want me to have?”

She rose from his lap and hopped onto the table, shoving the dishes back carelessly. Her legs parted, and she peeled her panties over her hips and down her thighs. She tossed the scrap of red satin and lace at Hannibal, who caught them with a small bow before laying them neatly on the arm of the chair.

“Dessert,” she said with a wicked smile.

Hannibal pushed Will's shoulder gently, and he sank to his knees in front of the table, nuzzling the inside of Margot's knee. Alana rose to stand next to Margot. They kissed as Will worked his mouth up Margot's thigh. He glanced up to see Alana squeezing Margot's breast with one hand, her thumb teasing the nipple through the thick fabric.

Will paused to savor the rich scent and took a small, teasing lick. Margot groaned and tightened her thighs around his head. Alana reached down to tangle a hand in his hair. Letting them both guide him, he lapped her from top to bottom in a long, wet stripe. The sound she made was enough to make him swallow hard. His cock throbbed. He reached down to adjust it in his pants, conscious of the fact that there were not one but _three_ people in the room. Alana and Margot were absorbed in each other, reducing him to little more than a toy, but he had no doubt Hannibal was watching every move he made.

“Do you like the taste?” Hannibal asked quietly, as if sensing his thoughts.

Will nodded, his tongue sliding between her folds to chase the flavor of her, just barely dipping inside of her. Her thighs pulled him deeper, and he swirled his tongue just to feel her clench around him, then pulled back to press his lips against her clit. She groaned and dug her stiletto heels into his back.

“I've always enjoyed the sight of you on your knees.” Hannibal said. “You do love to be useful, don't you? Whether you're trading your mind to Jack Crawford or your mouth to Margot.”

Will swallowed, breathing hard. It was too intense, the hot press of Margot's thighs around him, the sound of her kissing Alana, Hannibal's voice in his ear—he wanted more. He lapped and sucked at Margot's cunt, gasping when someone's hands pulled hard at his hair. He didn't stop.

Hannibal's hand closed on the back of his neck, pushing him forward, rubbing his face against her skin, smearing fluid on his cheeks. Will groaned and brought his lips back to her clit, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. The sharp, clean scent of her filled his nostrils as he flicked his tongue back and forth, over and over again until she arched her back and squeezed her thighs tightly around him. He followed her orgasm with small, light licks until she pushed him away.

Will sat back on his heels, panting. He watched Margot melt against Alana, who pelted her face and neck with kisses. His stomach clenched when she reached one hand between Margot's legs and drew two fingers through the mess of her come and his saliva. Margot shuddered and pressed her thighs together, wriggling against Alana's hand.

Her fingers slid easily into Margot, first two, three, then a fourth coming to join them. She ground the heel of her palm into Margot's clit as she fucked her, swallowing the breathy sounds she made with a hard kiss.

“Oh, god, oh, god—” Margot gasped against her lips. Alana smirked and twisted her wrist, making Margot's whole _body_ clench as she came again, soaking Alana's hand and the tablecloth.

Will watched the wetness drip down her thighs. He would probably feel insulted if he wasn't so painfully hard.

Suddenly hands were grabbing him, pulling him up against a firm body. Hannibal devoured his mouth, his tongue chasing the flavor of her, the flavor of them together. Hannibal's cock was pressed against his hip.

“Jealous?” he whispered against Hannibal's mouth.

“How could I be jealous when you make such a beautiful sight together?” Hannibal leaned down to nip the side of Will's neck. “I should like to paint you this way, kneeling in supplication, not a single thought in your head save pleasing your lover. I could keep you there forever, never letting you off your knees.”

“God, Hannibal.” He shut his eyes against the image.

Clothing rustled behind him, and he turned to see Alana helping Margot down from the table. Hand in hand, they walked through the open bedroom door.

“Are you ready?” Hannibal asked him.

Will nodded, unsure if he was telling the truth.

 

* * *

 

By the time Will and Hannibal made it to the bedroom, Margot had Alana pinned to the bed, straddling her hips as she unbuttoned her blouse. Alana's face was softer than Will could remember seeing it as she looked up at her. He wondered if that was how she looked with all her lovers, or just Margot.

Hannibal's arms wrapped around him from behind, pulling him back against him. His hips ground against Will's as he unknotted the tie from his neck, sliding it out of his collar. Strong, capable fingers opened his shirt, dragging across his skin along the way. He shivered.

“I am going to enjoy this,” Hannibal whispered, teeth scraping the edge of Will's ear. “It's rare that I have the opportunity to observe you. When we are alone, I find myself...distracted.” He kissed the side of Will's neck, first lightly, then with a hint of teeth. Will bit his lip to stop the sound that threatened to escape.

A gasp from the bed drew his attention. Margot had opened Alana's shirt to reveal a bra made of cream-colored silk. She was sucking through the fabric, her tongue leaving a damp stain. Alana's hands knotted in her hair, but she sucked slowly, with an air of false innocence.

“God, _fuck,_ Margot—”

Margot grinned and kissed the dark spot she'd left on the silk before lavishing the same attention on the other one. Alana swore and arched against the bed, reaching down to unbutton her pants. Margot tsked and grabbed her wrists.

Hannibal slid Will's shirt off his shoulders before folding it carefully and setting it on the dresser. Will inhaled sharply when Hannibal's hands settled on his belt buckle.

On the bed, Margot was finally easing Alana's pants over her hips, revealing the pale skin he'd dreamed about on so many nights. A garter belt in the same cream silk framed her hips, but her panties and hose were a stark black. Margot unclipped the garter belt with practiced grace.

Just as she began pulling the panties down, Hannibal's hand brushed against Will's cock. Will gasped and thrust against his hand, eyes locked on the neat patch of dark hair, the glimmer of moisture as Margot ran her fingers through the curls. Margot winked at him over her shoulder before bending down and settling Alana's legs over her shoulders.

Hannibal's fingers curled around him in a loose, teasing grip. His thumb brushed the head, and he lifted his hand to lick the drop of moisture.

No one had ever wanted Will as badly, had ever been so greedy for every inch of skin, every drop of come, every strangled sound that came from his lips. His chest ached with the knowledge.

“Alright, hand him over,” Alana called. Hannibal's eyebrow twitched, which Will knew was the equivalent of a normal person rolling his eyes.

“Bring the belt,” Margot added, eyeing the strip of leather gripped in Hannibal's free hand.

Hannibal kissed him again and stripped him of his trousers before leading him to the bed. It reminded him oddly of his wedding in reverse, of Molly's father giving her away. _There's a thought to never_ _share with anyone ever,_ he decided.

“On your back,” Margot ordered, holding out her hand for the belt. Will laid down, letting her pull his wrists over his head. She looped the belt around them and through a slat in the headboard.

“Not too tight,” Hannibal warned. “Will, you must inform us if your fingers go numb or start to tingle.”

“Yes, dad,” Margot said, rolling her eyes. Will twitched.

Will turned his head to face Alana, who was watching them with amusement. His breath caught in his chest as she looked him up and down. There was no room to hide from the only person in the room who hadn't seen him naked before.

He noticed small details he hadn't seen before. The faint gleam of stretch marks on her hips, the pale C-section scar across her abdomen, and a fainter one that looked like an appendectomy. He wanted to trace them with his mouth.

“Not what you imagined, is it?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “it's better.”

She leaned down to kiss him, and his hands twitched before the leather tightened on his wrists, reminding him of his immobility. He was strapped down in a room full of killers. He wondered which of them had killed Mason, or if they had shared him like he and Hannibal shared Francis Dolarhyde.

“Can I lick you?” he asked against her lips.

“You didn't get your fill earlier?”

“Orgasm aids conception,” Hannibal said.

Alana rolled her eyes. Will gave her a sympathetic look.

“Thank you, Hannibal. I wouldn't know that, _being a doctor and a mother.”_

To his relief, she climbed up to straddle his shoulders before slowly lowering down. His hands itched to pull her close, to grip her hips as she filled his mouth. It was his favorite way to have a woman, surrounded by her heat and her scent. He'd never had two women back to back, had never had a chance to compare. Alana had a sweeter, earthier flavor. His mouth watered as she rocked her hips against his face.

“You like doing this, don't you?” she asked. He opened his mouth to get a better taste, but she pulled back, teasing.

“Yes,” he panted. “I used to dream of doing this in your office, under your desk.”

She rewarded him with another taste. His eyes shut as he pulled her labia into his mouth one at a time, sucking gently.

“Try a gentler touch,” Hannibal suggested.

Will flicked his tongue in a feather-light motion and felt her thighs squeeze around him. Of course Hannibal remembered. He felt a surge of something that might have been jealous, picturing Hannibal between Alana's thighs. He wondered if she had ever sucked Hannibal's cock, if she did it better—but he knew Hannibal cared more about his mind than his gag reflex. He remembered the look in Hannibal's eyes as he'd licked his hand just moments ago and felt heat flare in his belly.

Then Alana rocked down again, and he forgot everything else in the taste of her, the desire to get as much as possible, to pull the low, needy sounds from her throat. When she pulled off, he found himself following her with his mouth, but she pinned him down by the shoulders.

He could see Hannibal over her shoulder, his lips quirked in approval. His pupils were blown, making his eyes look black in the low light. Will held his gaze as Alana sank onto his cock.

His hands clenched above his head. Alana ground down on his cock, rubbing her hips in small circles. He raised his hips to meet her, but she pinned him down again.

Margot came behind her, raining kisses on her neck. Her hand slipped between them, rubbing Alana's clit until she twitched and gripped him even tighter. Will swore under his breath.

The three of them moved together, Will straining against the grip of the belt and Alana's hands as she rode him. Margot's fingers brushed the base of his cock as she rubbed Alana.

“Fuck, Alana, I can't—” he warned, biting his lip as he tried to stave off the orgasm. Finally Alana froze and tightened her thighs around his hips, gripping him tight as she came. She rolled her hips again and again until he emptied himself inside her.

Kissing him again, she rolled off him and into Margot's arms. Will panted, tilting his head back.

“Ready to untie me?” he asked.

“I think not,” Hannibal said, kneeling at the foot of the bed. “If I may?”

Margot shot him a look as if to say, _Be my guest._

Hannibal ran a hand from the outside of Will's ankle to his waist, making him shiver. He took one of the pillows and placed it under Will's hips. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked, thumbs rubbing circles on his inner thighs as he pushed them apart.

Will nodded hazily.

“Good. We are just beginning.”

He pulled a bottle from his trouser pocket and rolled it in his hands to warm it. Will almost rolled his eyes. Of course Hannibal had brought lube. He lost any urge to laugh when Hannibal teased his hole with a slick finger.

Alana and Margot watched them with hooded eyes, Margot amused, Alana with a bit more interest.

No one had been more surprised than Will to see how he took to this change in their relationship. Hannibal's fingers and cock fit into Will like they belonged there. After the first time, his body craved Hannibal with an intensity that alarmed him.

But their coupling so far had been private. It was easy to pretend nothing had changed in the light of day. Very few knew what they were together, and none had ever seen him open up for Hannibal the way he was now. His face grew hot as Hannibal pressed a finger into him.

“Very good, Will,” Hannibal murmured. His tone made something in Will melt, made him want to spread his legs as far as they would go. He hissed as Hannibal brushed his prostate, still too sensitive.

Hannibal was still clothed, he realized as another finger slid into him. He had Will spread out naked, covered in sweat, hands bound over his head, but he himself was still dressed, hardly a hair out of place.

It made Will want to dishevel him, run his hands through his hair, pull him down for a dirty kiss, but he couldn't move. He settled for arching his back, inviting Hannibal closer with the curve of his body, an invitation his lover could rarely resist. He didn't resist it now, either, stretching out over Will's body, pressed over every inch of him.

Alana's eyes were fixed on where Hannibal's fingers joined his body. Her lips were parted, and her hand was toying between Margot's legs. He found himself spreading his thighs even further to give her a better view. Margot gasped as Alana's fingers dipped into her.

Hannibal's eyes glowed with pride. He leaned forward to scrape his teeth over Will's collar bone, sliding his fingers out. The sharp sound of his zipper rang in Will’s ears, inordinately loud. Hannibal’s thighs brushed Will's ass, still clothed in pristine cotton slacks. Will wrapped his bare legs around Hannibal's waist, picturing the stains they would leave: sweat, lube, and both his and Alana's fluids. He wanted Hannibal to be able to smell their sex afterwards.

Hannibal slicked his cock and rubbed it along the cleft of his ass. The skin felt hot enough to burn. Will wondered if being tied was enough for Hannibal—enough for Margot and Alana—or if they expected him to beg. But apparently Hannibal had waited long enough, because he was finally pushing into Will, one agonizing inch at a time. Will lifted his hips to meet him, but Hannibal's hands came down to pin him against the bed.

Will squirmed as much as he was able to, trapped under Hannibal's hands and the belt around his wrists. He was drowning in sensations, the rasp of Hannibal's clothing against his skin, the heat of his mouth sucking a bruise onto his collar bone, the hardness of his cock sliding out and then in again, too slowly. His skin broke into a sweat that was neither hot nor cold. Hannibal let out a low groan that settled in the pit of Will's stomach.

The next stroke brushed Will's prostate, and he jerked, not sure if he wanted to pull away or push back into the sensation. Then it happened again, and his legs tightened around Hannibal's waist.

Hannibal's hips snapped forward, making Will cry out, and he understood.

It didn't matter to Hannibal if Will touched other people. It didn't matter if they made him hard, or even if he fucked them—because only Hannibal could do this to him. He bit down on his lip as Hannibal drove into him harder, the fabric of his pants scraping Will's skin, and Hannibal seemed to take it as a challenge, snatching at Will's hips to meet each brutal thrust. Will forgot about keeping quiet, forgot about anything but the wild, howling need in him.

He could hear himself babbling, begging maybe, but he couldn't connect the words. Hannibal's eyes caught his. His pupils were blown, his lips red and swollen. Low sounds came from his throat with each thrust, and Will clenched tightly just to hear him groan.

“Please,” Will whispered.

Hannibal's mouth clamped down on his, a biting kiss that left them both breathless. Hannibal's hips stuttered as he came inside Will.

They were still for a long moment, Will's heart racing as his lover covered him like a blanket. Hannibal's shirt brushed against his cock, and he gasped, unsure when he had gotten hard again. Hannibal kissed him again, gentler this time, before pulling back.

Seconds later, Alana was sliding over him, gripping his cock in slick sweetness, impossibly wet. Hannibal reached over Will's head, freeing his hands, and Will found himself cupping her hips as she slid over him. He thought of his come already inside her, thought of filling her with more, and his fingers tightened on her skin. She ground down against him hard.

It was hard to keep control after that. He ground up into her tight heat over and over again until he came so hard his vision went white. As soon as he could breathe again, he flipped them over and slid until his face was between her thighs. His fingers teased her entrance as he licked and sucked. He pulled her closer with an arm around her hips, savoring the feeling of her curves against him.

When a hand slid over Will’s hip, dipping in where he was still loose and wet, he bit back a gasp.

“I can't—”

Alana silenced him by grabbing his hair and pulling him back to her. Something hot flared inside him, and he swirled his tongue over her clit, alternating long strokes with the feather-light touches Hannibal had suggested. He groaned as fingers slipped into him, imagining what he must look like: spread open, leaking come and lube as he licked desperately at Alana's cunt.

His body gave an involuntary jerk when Hannibal brushed his prostate again. A soothing hand ran over his back.

“Can he come again?” Margot asked, amused.

Will shook his head as Hannibal pushed another finger into him. His hands clenched on Alana's hips. Hannibal stroked his prostate in a slow, relentless rhythm. Will lost track of the sounds it dragged from him, just held on for dear life as Hannibal fucked him with his fingers. He barely registered Alana coming until she pushed him away gently. Her hand brushed over his mouth, one finger prodding at his lips. He sucked gratefully.

Hannibal's fingers stretched him wide, just short of painful. He'd lost track of how many fingers were inside him. He twisted and caught a glimpse of Margot. Her expression was equal parts curious and detached. His fingers gripped the sheets hard as each stroke hit him with a jolt, though his cock stayed soft against the sheets.

The orgasm made his vision go white, and he bit down on Alana's hand.

Afterwards, he watched hazily as Margot kissed Alana. He allowed himself to imagine what it must be like, to love someone who had never hurt you. To share an affection that was as soft and warm as a worn blanket. The sort of love he'd imagined for himself with Alana, with Molly, and other women who had come before them.

Then Hannibal pulled him back against his chest, and he let the thought fall away like droplets of water between his fingers. That kind of love was for someone with a cleaner conscience than Will's. His head lolled against the shoulder of Hannibal's dress shirt.

“You did very well,” Hannibal murmured into his ear. His arms tightened across Will's chest. Will sighed and leaned back against him. “I don't suppose you're capable of standing, are you?”

Will shook his head, eyes sliding shut.

“I'll get something to clean you up.”

Will drowsed against the pillows, watching Margot draw warm hands over Alana's skin, over the curves of her hips and belly. Under normal circumstances, it would have felt voyeuristic, but they had seen enough of each other that such concerns seemed pointless.

“Have you thought of a name?” he asked as Margot traced the faint scar across Alana's belly.

“Nothing definite,” Alana said, eyes half-closed. “The Vergers are fond of the letter 'M.' ”

“If you'd...” Will swallowed, unsure. “If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to consider Mischa. It's...a family name.”

Margot gave him a long, searching look.

“We'll consider it.”

By the time Hannibal returned, he had fallen asleep.

 

* * *

 

By the time the men left, Margot and Alana had showered and settled in their own bed. Alana laid her head on Margot's shoulder, enjoying the clean scent of her skin. Her hips and back ached, but she'd expected them to. Margot rubbed the spot on her lower back that always got tight, and she sighed.

“Did you ever expect to wind up here?” Margot asked.

Alana laughed quietly. “Here? No.” She rolled onto her side to give Margot better access to her back, which she took advantage of.

“It's strange,” Alana said as Margot's deft fingers worked along her spine. “But it feels like every step we've taken has led us here. You and me. Will and Hannibal.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not the parts that led me to you.”

Margot kissed the back of her neck, sliding her hand to Alana's belly. “Not going to leave me for Will Graham's puppy eyes?”

“That ship sailed a long time ago.” Alana covered Margot's hand with her own. “Tonight was fun, but he's...changed. And I don't just mean his diet.”

“We've all changed,” Margot murmured.

Alana tried to remember the person she was before, but the memory was distant, cloudy and faded. She didn't mind.

They fell asleep entwined, and Alana dreamed of blue eyes and soft curls, of teacups and the roar of the sea outside their window.


End file.
